


The Asian In Thedas

by zai_make_it_awesome



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Author!OC, Avaar!MGiT, Child Abandonment, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fade Dreams, I swear, Its a biological thing yo, M/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Graphic Violence, Oriental!OC, Original Character(s), References to Depression, Scientific explanation of soulmates, Shes japanese-filipino, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates who can hear what their other soulmate is singing/ listening to, Suicidal Thoughts, The Fade, but not really, cuz fade stuff, dragon - Freeform, earth wasnt a nice place tbh, five chapters of prologue ?, no expositions so meh, solasmance, sorry in advance, soulmate!AU, this takes a while to develop, unknown ending as for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zai_make_it_awesome/pseuds/zai_make_it_awesome
Summary: you know, when your friend takes you out to get a witch to see why  you don't have a soulmark ten years after everyone gets them. Say.NO.don't you fuckers be like me. I mean the witch could drop kick you to another dimension where the inter-dimensional soulmate virus gets better reception but trust me-just don't. You'd get dragons, and soulmates and mild head aches.It just ain't worth it.trust me on this, I got first hand experience.





	1. CHAPTER I: ARRIVAL

**Author's Note:**

> Just so yall know:
> 
> \- If you're reading this, I LOVE YOU THANK YOU  
> \- updates might be irregular, I'm shooting for weekly but it might end up monthly. Sorry..  
> \- comments and kudos sustain me.

“ACHOO!”

Falling, green and fog and black and falling.

I land on something cold.

Usually someone’s eighteenth birthday is filled with a wrong sense of freedom and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. Suffice to say neither happened with me. Instead, my best friend took it upon herself to find the best matchmaker in London and drag my soulmate-less self at the asscrack of dawn. Well, it was more like eight in the morning, but it still felt like the asscrack of dawn to me.

“Come on!” she said. “It’s just a reading! You’ll be fine.”

No, it was not fine. I was practically dragged to my table the moment we reached that hole-in-the-wall shop. The owner, a rude redhead lady with weird eyes, unceremoniously dumped me on a chair and expressly told me not to interrupt her at any point in the session. She didn’t give me a chance to speak, so I couldn’t warn her that the incense she was burning on the table was attacking my nose, leading to an impressively thunderous sneeze. Whose fault was it that I’m now face down on what feels like a snowbank in the middle of butt-friggin summer?

__Let’s find your soulmate, they said. It’ll be fun, they said._ _

Fuck that shit. Fuck it in the ass with a cactus. Maybe it’ll survive the cold with the scalding heat of my rage. Then again with my luck, I’d be the first person to kill a cactus from too much heat. And those suckers live in deserts. In the end, none can withstand my petty, fiery fury.

Yeah. I feel like the butt end of a joke: “What happens to the Asian lady if she sneezes in a séance?”

I’ve just about left everything familiar at the archipelago looking for a chance to get my soul-mark. After all, why would I stay in a country that was stuck in the dark ages regarding the whole ‘only those with soul-marks have souls’ mindset? That’s why I left and lived in London for five years. Because why the fuck not, right?

I kind of felt like screaming, but the cold biting into your bones sort of stops you from doing dumb things. Stupid snow. I breathe the sharp, frigid air and try to get my head to stop ringing and find out what hurt. Or, more accurately, what __didn’t__  hurt. I feel like a human bruise at the moment. There’s a sharp, blinding pain in my ankle but at least my foot seems to be on right. In other words, not dead. That’s good. It’s a step up, all things considered. Sitting up, I’m momentarily blinded by the amount of white and the nagging feeling like something was off.

You know, that same kind of feeling you get when you’ve left for work and you’re pulling out of your driveway. You’ve double-checked everything but you know, you just __know__ , you’ve forgotten something and it’s unnerving. Yeah. It’s like that kind of feeling times a thousand. My dinner tries to make a reappearance but that my be the concussion talking. Maybe I’d be lucky and find a town with a hospital.

A howl breaks through the air.

“Fuck.”

I get to my feet ( _ _Ow ow ow__ ) and looked around. I’m in some kind of clearing, with a fence of pine trees framing the expanse.

I pick a direction and start hoofing it – as well as person with a concussion could anyhow.

\---------------------------

Three days.

Three days stuck out here with no one in sight. The wolves that made me move never showed up but sometimes the howls get too close and I get up and go running the opposite way. At least I know what that nagging feeling was – I’m not on Earth. That was apparent on the first night when I saw the two bloody moons in the sky, leading to a mental breakdown that didn’t go away till the next dawn. Oh, and then there was that weird naked mole rat, no, rabbit, rodent? Thing I stumbled on. It was like somebody had waxed a chupacabra and gave it monkey feet and rabbit ears. It was great nightmare fuel if anything.

If I wasn’t feeling like week-old trash, I’d laugh. But three days of no food and barely any water does that to you. I couldn’t start a fire with everything around me soaked. I lived in a tropical country, and only knew the hell of winter was when I moved to Manchester. It was the coldest fucking place I’d ever been in but even then there was never a need to figure out shit like how to survive in the arctic. I bet Alaskans would feel right at home here.

No food, no fire, and no sleep. I couldn’t feel anything. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be. There was snow, frigid and sharp, but the cold was bearable during the day. Maybe it’s because of something science-y, like my body density and heat tolerance is better. Maybe the world is smaller and doesn’t need much to cool whole regions – who the fuck knows.

At least it’s only now that the fear of hypothermia and frostbite is starting to peak.

Three days of no sleep, no food, and no fire. There’s a break in the woods. I can make out something glowing beyond the shadows of the trees.

I cry for help, but the sound is soft and dies in the chilling winds. I keep moving. At least my swollen ankle got three days of cold compression. At least my best friend could deck the fucking rude witch she brought me to.

At least I’m not being eaten by wolves.

At least I’m not dead yet.

At least I __tried__.

 


	2. CHAPTER II: FATHER FOUND

Everything got darker. there was no cold, no howl, nothing but quiet.

 _ _This is it. I gave it my best shot, at least.__  

What I wouldn't give to go back home for one more moment. To lounging at the couch with my cat, playing video games and trying to finish manuscripts before my demon of an editor comes in and picks it up next week.

I was so close to finishing that Viking story too. months of research and digging down the drain. Why was it so hard to pick a general genre of story to make anyway ? I've done historical romance set at world wars, pre-Christianization, heck even sci-fi. Made like Tolkien and grafted a mythos before even starting a word of my magnum opus. I guess the world will never know the shenanigans of Falkeen the Thieving and His band of misfits. God I hadn't even thought of a title for it yet! Something cool maybe like...

 ** **'The Scales' for their dragon armor uniform and acts of bringing justice.****  

__Oh! its sort of on the nose though...eh, I'll workshop it._ _

****'workshop it? You'll die soon, why bother?'****  

__well way to put the fun out of it,_ _

But the voice in my head was right. I will die alone, like everyone said. No soul mark to guide me to my other half, no red string of fate to tug bring me into the next life.

 ** **'Here lies Lyka Victoria Lorenzo - stranded in a different planet, forever alone'****  

__Don't you main protagonist me. I am a writer, I am God among men! -_ _

****'I am god? do you say that to all the muggings in alleyways back home?'** **

__No, but I recall that one time I got shanked and said-__  

****'thanks’ HA ! classic'** **

I still think that was the shock talking. My social ineptitude never fails in the best of times. I would suppose its common, being socially awkward. Spirits knows how I was able to get a friend that cared- though in hindsight she brought me to a match maker that catapulted me to a different planet for my 18th birthday so maybe she was just like everyone else. Eager to get rid of the walking insult to the spirits.

 ** **'Oh shit is that a white walker, Ha! your fucked'****  

__What?_ _

Through the haze of dark and numb, there was a white washed figure. Wispy around the edges, it grew larger until it was towering over me. A deep rumbling voice washed over me, but all I heard was gibberish. some weird grumbling I couldn’t parse. “Yes, yes, konichiwa, no habla ingles”. I rasp but the words get caught in my throat and I‘m left hacking in the snow. The violent shudders finally taking what little strength I have left.

I tried to move, to twitch -anything . But I was so tired, so very done with the world. Done with the degradation and harassment and branded as soulless, done with having to cover up my arms just to survive day by day. I mean I won't regret sinking money on the Dragon Age inspired arm wrappings, these shits were dope. But man, fuck racism - Its worse when your brown, Asian and soulless.

I didn't notice the towering man's - because if that was a woman then god damn- figure glow and a much gentler voice echo something back in gibberish.

lucid with thoughts about the injustice of it all, and the deep settling exhaustion. I didn't feel the sway as he lifts me like a sack. Only numb, and sleep.

 

* * *

  


  


I was asleep but so awake. The world around me felt like I was back home. Not London with its old streets and bright shops, the pretty lamp posts and romantic air- no. I felt like I was back home in the __nipa hut__  my __Lolo__  made when he retired from sea fairing. Like at any moment, __Obasan__  would peek behind the mango tree in the garden. Her hair tucked into her large brimmed straw hat and her over-all’s muddy from a day in the farm.

I could almost trace the delicate nautical marks, along her arm, framed with the first few carvings my grandfather ever did. The life of my __Lolo__  so shown, his love of the sea, his wood craft and faith.

The image so picturesque and clear that it was almost hard to look at as it twisted, the sunny sky darkening as my sleeveless dress showed clean skin and shame. I see __Obasan__  flinch away as I try to take the basket of picked fruits from her.

Shame, like I was naked for all to see, I turned from the perfect image. I shouldn't be here, marring this place of love and peace. I thought of something else- anything else.

I thought of stories without soul marks, of different races- long-lived elves in Rivendell, of the stout and stubborn dwarves. of dragons and riders and pirates and-

And I was on a beach, with no one else on the coast. Alone, with the sun high in the sky, the gulls cawing above. And I saw the waves a little ways past, like an ocean heart beat, its rhythm dragged mine along with it. I wore the very first swimsuit I bought for myself, I could remember the back alley shop that catered to the fair-armed. I remember the unique designs and seeing people like me wander about, unafraid- I was thirteen. Unbidden, music started filling the air, and I stood there for some long moments. listening. It was my playlist- I realized, the very same one I played when I wanted to get away.

And it was then when I finally notice the surf board clutched against me.

Not of the shadows behind me, watching.

I ran to meet the waves. Feeling freer than I’ve ever been

 

* * *

  


  


I woke up to the smell of smoke and something savory in the air.

__Maybe this is heaven..._ _

I was in a Viking-esque looking cabin, with an open-hearth at the middle of the room and something good cooking. I sat up with a groan and immediately felt like jack hammers and a construction crew took residence in my skull. With squinted eyes I look around the quaint cabin. plant cuttings hung near the walls in various states of withered, jars and pots pile on one corner, some hung on wall hooks. there was a chest at the foot of the cot I laid in and a two-seater dining table pushed against the wall. __Now all I need is some smoking hot Viking man with a body of a god, if I'm lucky he'd have a hood made of some animal, like a bear.__  

There's a slamming of a door and a giant of a man walks in with a bundle of things. of what exactly I wouldn't know, too preoccupied with his goat skin cowl and full body paint.

 _ _Well damn. Thank you, god. Not what I had in mind but thanks. What about the three day long begging to go home ? No? A’ight. Ass.__  

The cowl still had the goat skull. the body paint made him look like someone dipped him in white and went crazy with an over sized brush.

It was familiar ... I remember the Pocahontas movie, they had the same style with their clan hunters. for camouflage? was this man is a hunter, it isn't impossible I suppose.

There was a rumbling sound that brought me out of my reverie. " Frwsa gzpuh bqixof? Yngrov brwoj fski qud" or something like that, a bunch of gibberish to my brain.

My brain scrunched in confusion, as he drops the stuff on his arms on my lap and went about the small hut. Still 'talking' but the words fly over my head. "Wait please, I can't understand a word you're saying." I say, catching his attention.

He snaps his jaw shut, looking at me with piercing eyes. I've read enough stories to at least get an idea how to communicate. I lift my hand, pointing to my ears and shaking my head " I. Can’t. Under. Stand. You." He makes a hmm sound. That, I understand.

He walks towards me with a bowl of what looks like soup. He nudges it towards me like a caveman offering. I took it gratefully with one hand, the other going to my heart then laying it flat in the air before waving towards him in a sign of thanks. He nods in what I hope was understanding.

The soup smelled heavenly, and the heat was the perfect temperature, hot enough to slow me down, not that hot to melt my guts. Which, doesn't really sound all that good of a margin, now that I think about it. Not that it stopped me from chugging it like coke.

He put a hand on my covered arm and I couldn’t stop from jolting- soup dripping off the rim. A few drops of the stuff burning my fingers as he gently lowers my hands. It took a sec, but I realized he was just urging me to slow down.

I nodded, and he let go, eyes watching my every move as I sipped instead of gulping. He smiled then, and I was hit by how strange yet familiar the look was. Caring, and fatherly as he moved to tuck me in the furs, feeding the fire and going about the place.

At some point, he took the empty bowl from me and gave me a basin of warm water and a rough cloth. I paused, confused. “wha-” He chuffed then, taking back the basin and setting it aside. He asked for my arms in a gesture, and for a moment I didn't move.

Gently, he grasped my and pulled it close. His other hand going to the rag- wet with the warm water. And gentler still he scrubbed the grime from my little misadventure at arriving in this strange planet. I let him, somehow I could feel that this was as much for him as it was for me.

The touch was almost unbearable, but his hand never gripped too hard. Almost as though I could pull away at anytime. But I never did. As much as it hurt, it was a comfort I’ve never felt before. It was strange to me, how easily it was that he touched and held and cared for me. I knew that soulmates and soul marks weren't a universal thing. The soulmarks were as much biological as it was near mystical. Which means no matter how human looking this person was (giant height aside) I was an alien here. But that didn't change the fact that physical contact wasn't freely given. especially to me.

Being without a mark since I was ten meant that people started to believe I was soulless, and prejudice dictated that touching me was similar to contacting severe disease. But gestures went far beyond supplementing conversation, they became a language on its own. ‘ _ _worthless__ ’ it’d say ‘ _ _dirty__ ’ ‘ _ _wrong__ ’ ‘ _ _demon__ ’

And so it was, I sat on a strange bed, in a strange world, comforted by a strange man crying uncontrollably as my body finally felt a gentle touch of somebody that didn’t know what was wrong with me.

It was comforting, and he never made a sound as clung like a baby. Like I was eight again and this whole thing was a bad dream.

After he had reached whatever he could without outright stripping me, he left the bowl on a side table and pushed the rough rag into my hands. I wanted to protest, but I knew that it would be insane of me to want this stranger to keep holding me. Which is weird but I know my fanfics, I’ve probably got the classic case of touch starvation.

****‘Ah, poetic justice, you who always made your characters fucked up in the head is actually also very fucked up in the head!’** **

__I do not have a fucked up head!_ _ ___  
_ ___  
_ **_**_’Honey, if you aren’t then why am I here hm? Face it. You. Are. Craaazy~’_ ** _ ** ****_**_  
_ ** _ ****_**_  
_ ** _ __You are insufferable._ _ ___  
_ __  
_ _ **_**_’Sure I am but what does that make you?’_ ** _ **

I ignore the thought and start scrubbing my arm more aggressively. I look around and notice that the big viking man wasn’t inside. Cautiously, I unhook the arm guards I always wear. Once they were off I’m immediately reminded of how long I’ve been wearing them. The skin underneath is a stark pale against my light tan. Which I mean, isn’t out of place. I’ve been wearing these types of things since I was eight after all. Earth isn’t very friendly if you’ve got bare arms. People without soulmarks usually aren’t even considered people in the more extreme places. Third world countries usually. You’d walk outside with long sleeve and its guaranteed that you’d loose those sleeves from muggings in broad daylight, getting kicked out of restaurants then having to bare your arms for proof that you’re “legit”.

Yeah… not a fun place.

But the underground society of people like me was almost like another nation entirely. There was a sense of strong camaraderie. And also people who make cool shit like the arm guards. Its always stab/slash proof and can mimic a skin color or soulmark. Some group of people would even design soulmarks with their significant other in attempts to blend in. Life just wasn’t that great for the rest of us.

But my arm guards are precious to me. I spent nearly all my revenue from my Kofi’s and patreon’s (I write good things,ok.) on these custom things. They look exactly like fancy elvhen wrappings and these babies have the added bonus of being able to keep my bones from hurting too much if an asshole tries to break them. (which might have nearly happened once thus my paranoia)

I’ve been slowly wiping my forearms and staring into space before something caught my eye. There. Just below my wrist there was a bruise forming. Huh, did the seller scam me? I don’t recall hitting myself that hard but then again I was half out of it. I’d need some ice for it later.

I could hear the stomping foot falls of the man coming back and I quickly put my arm guards back on. I  scrubbed the back of my neck and a bit of my collar when he walked back in. I pretended to be lost in thought again, keeping him in the corner of my eye. I didn’t survive earth to just be done in here. Though he has been nothing but kind to me…

I’d wait it out and see if I need to run again.

 

* * *

  


  


It’s been a week.

Which means I’ve been in this planet for ten days. And I was nowhere near figuring out how I got here or how to get back, that is- if I wanted to go back. Already this world is kinder to me. Were I on earth, they’d take one look at my bare arm and leave me to die in a ditch. Here was different. Or maybe I’m just over generalizing. But I do know that it's just the bitterness from cynical thinking. I did have multiple mental breakdowns in just surviving the first three days. Each one bringing me farther and farther from fully comprehending anything 'til everything calmed down.

Which just meant that in the span of a week, poor Papa Bear had to comfort my sad battered psyche more times than he had to cook a meal. I still thank the gods for getting lucky. As it turned out, I stumbled just outside Papa bear’s cabin and he was kind enough to save my life.

Y’know- like usual Tuesdays.

And yes, I’ve taken to calling the Viking, Papa Bear. Everything in his home was stiff and gigantic, but his demeanor was adorable. Ever seen a grown man twice your size slouch and pout at soup ? ‘cuz he slouch and pouted at the soup when there wasn’t any basil-looking leaf to add to it. That was the first time I laughed, since coming here .

And in the following days he’s been keeping me in bed, fed and cared for. It was odd but every time I’d move to get up he’d get this disappointed/kicked puppy look in his eyes, I‘ve no idea how he manages it but the look alone made me feel bad enough to get back to bed on my own.

Speaking of, he’s taken to sleeping on this massive chair that was near bursting with fur, I managed to get him to take the bed pillow but he refused to take any of the blankets. I was positively drowning in them so I rolled a few up to replace the pillow I gave way. It was a lot more comfortable than the lumpy straw pillow. It only made me feel more guilty.

The surfing dreams continued too. Much to my enjoyment. I sometimes wake up feeling like I‘ve been surfing all day but the soreness in my arms always goes away. It was odd to see how much the dreams were affecting me in the real world though, my balance was better than it has ever been. Papa Bear almost had a heart attack seeing me balancing on a corner of a tilted chair trying to light the candles on the small candelabra.

Although, maybe it was ‘cuz of the real possibility of me burning the house down.

But amidst all the shenanigans, it was difficult to communicate with him, having to rely on pantomime and vague gestures hoping it meant the same thing to him as it did to me. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it was embarrassing. For example, I tried to tell him I needed to fix a tear in my shirt or at least if he had a needle and thread . He clearly misunderstood and the fiasco ended up with me vehemently shaking my head as he bodily carried me to a big basin in the snow that had red rocks heating the water in it. I had cried thinking he was cooking me for dinner.It would have been just my luck if Papa Bear ended up being a cannibal. It took a while for me to calm down from the terror.

He looked abashed and apologetic as he took me back inside and sat me down, patting my back and helping me calm down. He slouched and pouted after too when he found out that all I wanted was to fix my shirt.

He gave me a tunic and took my shirt then. I got it back a day later, he had fixed the rip and the line of stitches ended up being embroidered with feathers and flowers.

It was adorable.

I cried.

 _ _God__ _ _fuckin’ bless Papa Bear.__  

That had been two days ago. Now, a full week of me mooching of this wonderful person’s generosity, I feel a whole lot of disgusted and iffed out. I’ve never been one to take advantage of people. Not that there was anyone who was even kind to me on earth but I digress. Lorenzo’s were never known to leave debts unpaid and by God am I in huge debt to Papa Bear for saving my life.

So I’m working on a project. Papa bear had given me a small knife to use when he wasn’t around. Which at the moment he isn’t. There were days where he would leave in the morning after breakfast and return sometime during sundown. I have no friggin clue as to where he goes but I just assume it some version of this world’s nine to five job. And in the time in between I had managed to whittle myself a giant of a crochet hook, it sort of felt like holding a soup ladle, and started working on the bag of wool he had. Not much really. Just enough to make him a comfortable blanket. If it was cold I wouldn’t have known but with how much he bundles up some nights when the fire was left unattended, I figured a useful gift was better than a pretty one.

And yes, I was taking liberties, using his wool and what not. But at least it was something right? and its not like its going to waste, I‘ve barely made a dent in the damn sack of wool and already the blanket was one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever made. __Obasan__  would have been proud.

I finish the final row to the large blanket, it was somewhere around an arm span wide and five foot and eight inches long. Which I know specifically because that was how tall I was. I had planned to keep it plain but the sky was still blue with no sign of setting anytime soon, so I embellished a little, adding a few tassels on the ends and giving one side of the blanket a hood.

“done! one thank you blanket for papa bear.”

****It looks more like a snuggly.** **

“huh, now that you mention it...”

******Your giving a grown man who brings around a maul the size of a comet - a snuggly.**

I really had nothing to say to that really. But from what I know of Papa bear, he was a sweet guy. Rough around the edges but sweet and caring.

And dammit I spent two days on this so It’d be friggin dumb to unravel everything now! it has tassels- and a hood ! A HOOD ! if he doesn’t like it I can keep it, maybe sell it or something.

It didnt take long for Papa bear to come back, and by then I‘d just shoved it in his hands to be rid of it after he put down his great maul and travel pack. He looked down at it, confused. I rolled my eyes and took it back, showing him what it was. And when I gave it back he looked at me then at the snuggly then back at me. “for. you.” I said to him as I gestured my hands towards him. “thank.you” hand over my heart, then laid flat, palm up and waved towards him. I’ve done it enough times for him to know what it meant. But I laid by hand on top of the blanket and pushed it towards him.

I think he understood. He shook out the snuggly and did what I had done, lifting the hood over his head and draping the rest over his surly arms. I smiled. He looked at the material, then at the bag of wool in the corner of the same color.

I followed his gaze and felt sheepish. “err, I’ll pay you back for that... somehow” He said nothing. Only staring at the triple loop I’ve used to make the thing, plucking at it questioningly. I took that as my cue to explain how I did it. Something that didn’t happen often, but when it did, sometimes it was better to reenact the whole thing.

So I spent that night teaching a large Viking who could very well snap me in two with his pinky, how to crochet. And after his contented look he tucked me in. I realized something.

“Lyka” I say softly. sleepily

He turned to me confused. I raise my hand and rested it on my chest “Lyka...” and I gesture towards him.

a beat and then “Amund”

I nod. “Amund. Lyka thank you.”

“thhhaaanch ngiyoo” he tries. And its enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story will have songs so if y'all want, you can send song prompts to my tumblr. https://www.zailyn26.tumblr.com
> 
> please send some and they might end up making me keep to schedule. Its happened before too :P
> 
> PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <3


	3. CHAPTER III: WAY OF LIFE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When mute in Rome I guess.  
> Father-Stranger bonding extravaganza  
> Amund has chronic 'gigil'* over sad OC  
> planting the seeds for the springtime plot bunny :D  
> Also! BS writers Liberty on whatever info in this chapter. I'm like 80% sure its not canon.  
> 
> *filipino word that describes that bursting unspeakable feeling you get when seeing something so cute you're rendered incapable of doing anything other than a full-body freak out. Think like tiny baby bunnies or disgustingly fluffy fanfics and its that feeling.

 

#  Chapter III : WAY OF LIFE 

 

 

**Amund**

**  
**

The trip to Stormhold was a weary one, filled with many perils and heavy burdens. I had left to help the hold with its rotting disease that happened nearly seasonally with their eternal rain and heavy bogs.

In doing so, I had left behind my wife of ten years heavy with my first child, Flisee was a warrior with skill that rivaled only my own. Beautiful with her dark locks, rare amongst the fair color of the Avaar people.

I had only just finish my battle with the epidemic when I received word of her and my child's passing. I was distraught and grieving, instead of returning to the wyrmhold- to her- I wandered the paths between my safe houses that I once tended to before her, before I had known the joy of a warm home and a perfect battle partner. My thoughts spirals with each waking. I should have stayed wit her, I should have been there. I helped heal the wounded but I could not be there to save them... but-

Lyka.

The little one.

She looks so much like her. Dark hair like midnight, eyes sharp almonds that stared at everything like it was a puzzle to be solved. Much like Flisee's gaze is- _was_. She would only speak in a lyrical tongue, and with her odd behavior- indeed, she was strange. Yet she was also innocent. If not from how she touched everything as though she was afraid to be caught doing so, then from her tears that she cries at night when she believes I am asleep. She muffles her sobs well but I know grief- I am acquainted with its delights both distantly and intimately.

Lyka. It was a name I had not heard of and yet I could imagine myself naming a child, maybe mine, with it. A strong name that tastes of swiftness and strength. In the most oldest of tongues of my people it is strikingly similar to Lyacha - 'that who wanders into fortune'

The fortunate one.

The one that lives.

She is not of my blood but she is as much as mine as I am to her. I could not protect those most important to me- I will not fail again. This strange one had stumbled into my life just when it has lost its luster, I do not doubt the gift that she is. Perhaps it is time I face my failures...

And I swear it on the will of the Lady of the Sky that I would not fail again.

 

 

In the morning, I woke earlier than the past week and set about packing up all I had bought with me in my pilgrimage of grief. It was not a lot but it was enough to fill all the extra packs I had traded for from the near by village. When I was nearly finished I went to wake up the little one- Lyka. I had just been calling her Little One for the last few days that now that I knew her name, it felt odd to use it. She was little and the urge to hold her like a babe and maybe pet her soft hair never really quite went away. But her sharp gaze never fails to remind me of the scary intellect hidden behind words I could not understand. A searching gaze, one that seeks answers and questions and more answers.

She was a fussy waker, it would be well of me to remember where her feet are should I do so again (Had her aim been higher, I would never have kids). She was slow to waking and straightened at the sight of the now empty cabin. She looked to me searchingly but whatever dark thought that flitted through her mind did not linger as she once again had that sharpness to her gaze, a determination that could stare down dragons.

Breaking our fast was a quiet affair without her usual fumbling. I should prepare a smaller set of utensils sometime soon, polished ivory would serve well in the coming cold. Common wooden ones would not last her long.

I handed her the scraps I had painstakingly assembled into some sort of warm clothing for her. She was not used to the bulk, she waddled like a duck for a bit until I finally went about to fix things some more. Yes, I could have done so in the beginning but I couldn't help myself- she was cute as a nug. If a nug could glare daggers.

when we had tucked everything away back into the packs. I handed her the lighter one and we both ventured outside into the snow. I had walked a few paces when I realized she was lagging behind. Her eyes darted from me to the path beyond. It flickered briefly back to the cabin before she took a deep breath and shakily move forward. "Worry not little one, we are only going back to wyrmhold." I had drawn in the snow a little hut and a three tiered village and a path in between. I am not an artist, but I knew she would understand as I drew a large stick person (me) and a small stick person (her) on the path with an arrow pointing towards the village.

She smiled then, her first one of the day. I drew three suns over the drawn people to tell her that the trip would take three days. She took a few moments but I knew when she understood when that hard determination settled in her eyes again.

 

 

* * *

 

I will not lie, I had doubts that Little one could handle the rough pace I set to get to Wyrmhold on time. The trip would be kinder to many, I had us stop more than usual in case she couldn't handle the travel. I was wrong. Contrary to her soft hands and fair skin she did not act like a pompous princess, in fact she once even tried to scale a tree. It did not end well but the soft snowbank beneath saved her from any bruises she may have suffered from. She turned her sharp gaze to anything and everything that we come across. From my insistent stop earlier in the day to collect some elfroot, She made it her mission to harvest any that we come across. At one point she even found some Royal elfroot that she had looked at questioningly. I showed her how to harvest that plant specifically.

It took only til 2 past high peak for the small basket we've been keeping the herbs in to be filled enough that I contemplated on making some salve now instead of when we got to the hold.

Sadly there was no boulders nearby to use. But on the bright side- Little one found a fennec den with a hibernating litter of four and a terrified, hissing mother. I had wanted to have them for supper but the little one gave me this look. Eyes wide and sparkling, lip pouting and hands clasping like in prayer.

I hesitated.

She kept doing the look and stopped only when I put the hunting knife away. Hunting was dangerous in these parts with the large packs of wolves that roam. I did not think we could be able to hunt for our nightly meal. There was always the rations that I packed. It would not be a bother to use them but I'd prefer it if we could use it as less as possible. The mountain weather was fickle and had no mercy for the unprepared.

Just as the sun was cresting the peaks of the mountains on the west did we finally get to a place safe enough for camp. It was an old Avaaran camp nestled like a nook into a large rock formation. It would not keep the snow out but it was nothing a simple tarp couldn't fix. I went about to set up camp when the little one tugged my pack open and pulled out the coat she had made for me. It was a beautiful thing, not very tightly woven but still could keep me warm. And she even made a cowl into the large mess of the thing. Fuzzy, wide and useful. I was very grateful for it. I think even Flisee would be hard pressed not to have one made for herself.

Flisee, I have not thought of her in a while. I wonder what she would think of me if she saw me now. Wandering like a coward and weak from loss. ' _What would you have done, you big oaf?_ ' she would say ' _leave an entire hold of people to die?_ '. Flisee was always the level headed one between us. Calm in the face of a blizzard, unchanging in the wake of time. I was always the fool when it came to her. Stumbling and stuttering like a green idiot.

Would she be proud of me? if she saw me now?

A hand on my arm woke me from my reminiscing. Little one- Lyka gestured in frustration to a pile of wet branches and the flint starter on her other hand.

 

Right, fire, camping. That's what we were doing...

 

Dinner was a simple stew that mostly tasted of hot water, salt and onions. I should have probably saved the bones from the fennec and nug from a few days before if only to add flavor to the food. I dread to think about the next night of bland food. Little Lyka didn't seem to have enjoyed the food though she finished the pot clean, each slurp accompanied by a scowling of her nose. Adorable.

At night I set for a trip wire by the entrance that would clatter pieces of hollow metal and stone loudly should something trigger it. With as much safety precaution I could do, I tuck in the little one against the stone wall and slept between her and the entrance.

 

 

* * *

 

The second day greeted me with a curled up bundle of fur and child against my chest and under my chin. I am, again, reminded of how tiny this child is. She could barely reach the middle of my chest, and was the smallest I'd seen of any human. Maybe she had a bit of dwarf in her, or be actually younger than I assume (two and ten summers). Never the less she was tiny and I could not help but to hold her just a little bit closer.

 _How can something so small and delicate even survive this wretched world ?_ I wondered.

Not alone. If I had never stumbled upon her she would be but another body in the many that Thedas has taken, no matter how innocent. But I did find her, and she did live and she will live for as long as she is able so long as I could help it.

She roused slowly with the sun, and when the morning fully came to be, I watched as she brought her hand to her face far too quickly as a small _'smack !'_ echoes softly that nearly made me miss her soft mumbled something (It's something vulgar, I just know it). Her hand rubs at the smarting cheek and curls over her eye, rubbing the sleep away. It's so Gods damned cute ! If every morning was to be like this then maybe I can start looking forward to dawn again.

With the rise of the morning came the decision to take a few things into my hands. Lyka needs to be able to take care of herself in this harsh world. I do not know if she has ever been hunting. I would expect not but yesterday alone taught me that there were many contradictions in this tiny child. So after breaking out nightly fast we both made quick work of packing up what we took out of the packs and started off again on the path towards wyrmhold.

 

It was nearly mid day when I spotted a wild druffalo herd in the west. We both slowed to a stop and I took count of the number of prey I could single out. Usually, wild druffalos can gore a grown man easily when provoked as such required at least three hunters to take down one grown male safely. But there were no three men around, just myself and what would amount to a chick ( Lyka ) against this thing. So the safest one would be an older druffalo, a straggler, hopefully. And there was one, a bit farter off from the rest, slow moving with white fur peppering the top of its furry head.

In one fluid motion I picked up the Little one by her waist and urged her up a tree where she could see me and I could keep an eye on her. I would not risk the old bull charging and pinning her against a tree. ( _her tiny frame impaled on a sharp horn, broken and guts spilling, tinting the pure snow red, no more puffs of small breath like tiny flurries in the cold, sharp eyes dull and lifeless-_ )

With a bit of angry wriggling she concedes when I drew my maul over my shoulder and threw a thumb at the bull. A huff and a glance later she sits still and quiet with only a shooing motion as I watched her for a few seconds more before turning and creeping up on the druffalo.

I had it down easily enough, years worth of training paired with the gigantic maul left the druffalo defeated but not dead yet. As I struggled to hold the big guy down and deal the killing blow, I immediately had an idea. I whistled at the little one and watched her scale down the tree and trudge over with all the packs (oops). When she was close enough I drew the large carving blade on the small of my back and handed it to her handle first, which she took quickly as the damn thing started bucking again.

She looked at the blade for a moment and then back at the druffalo. I watched as she hesitated and I resigned myself to somehow finding a way to kill it myself when she breathed in and moved forward. I doubled my efforts of holding it down and watched as she moved behind the downed druffalo, away from the legs that could kick her head clean off, hushing softly and muttering something in her lyrical tongue again as her hand caressed the beast side before plunging the knife straight to its heart. She kept her gentle muttering and petting as the big beast took its last breath.

Well, that answers the question of whether she can handle taking a life.

Still, she probably has never skinned anything before as he looked back at me with a 'what-now' face, a face I have gotten to know very closely in the last few days. I took the knife back from her and carried the kill back a few ways till a suitable spot came up. It didn't take too long. Not but a few yards away was my old rest stop between the cabin and the main village.

 

Once there I painstakingly taught Lyka the proper way to skin a kill, it went as you would expect when the only way we could communicate was through drawing on snow or shadowing the other's movement. But the mess was as minimal as you can get from a first time. There was something oddly cathartic in making something useful from an act of violence but that maybe just watching the tiny child gut an animal nearly two times her size from horn to tail tip. Or noticing the tip of her tongue peak out the corner of her mouth as she viciously use her body weight to break the whole carcass in two along the spine.

So... _adorable_ .

"Lady of the skies, Mountain Father, all those who look fondly upon me, Thank you for gracing me with this sweet, sweet child. " I whispered. 

She glanced up at me in my muttering, eyes wide in question, but I am rendered broken when she tilts her head just so and utters soft 'hm?'. The small splatters of blood just looks like freckles against her dark sun loved skin. 

So tiny. So cute. 

_If this goes on, I must remember to punch wall 'til I feel like a hardened warrior again._

I smiled at her, and shook my head. "It's nothing pup, keep going" she pouted at the strange words and went back to finish dressing the carcass. 

That night a hearty meal quickly disappeared between the both of us. For such a small thing she ate like two grown men, I often wonder where all that food goes... The night near the southern peak of thedas was special. For one, the stars here would always be brighter away from the city lights and fire. And for another, as deep as we were into the mountain range, the chorus of the wind was louder here. The notes and whispers of the cold air whistling through the branches and the night creatures coos in the dark made for a haunting melody that resonates deep into your marrow. The night is different here in southern thedas.

There is a music to it that many may not hear, but every clan teaches its young to listen to it. It is the song in which our gods sing to us their messages, its in the flight of crows, the rumbling of the earth or the beat of the storm. And like a blanket over our spirits, it draws us in for the nightly choir.

And Lyka seemed to only now notice it. Here wide eyes reflecting the night sky, glossy with tears unshed. A thread of worry runs through me before a smile gently graces her face. I have not seen her like this before, I realize. The weight I did not notice fell from her shoulders, her hands tracing her arm wrappings.

she looked at me again from under her blanket, " _thank you_ " she says, the phrase repeated enough between us for me to understand. I sat closer to her in the snow, "thank. you." I stuttered.

and that was all from her tonight.

 

* * *

 

The morning came slowly the next day that when first light broke the horizon we had already been walking for an hour. By the midday sun, Wyrmhold could be visible from our higher vantage point. Already the chimneys were billowing smoke, stew and a hot bath beckoning my stride to lengthen. Each tier of the stone village that pressed up against the sheer mountain was abuzz with life and activity. A blizzard could not stop the proud tribesmen from doing their daily duties.

It had been a while since I was home, but the sight of it never lost its luster. Lyka seemed apprehensive but kept up pace, not but an hour later we were passing through the various levels of the hold. The lowest levels, for the warriors and hunters that ventured frequently out into the wilds for their kills, the first wall intricate in its burrows and pathways that they knew like breathing.

My presence was not ignored and already I had four different people greet me on my return. I did not stop for conversation though it will not surprise me if by the time I arrive at the thane's hall word of me and Lyka would have already reached his ears. Thanes are the kind of people that would not survive without having ears in the winds and eyes in every wall.

Still, it would make this whole endeavor easier if I don't have to explain my situation. Adoption isn't that common in Wyrmhold especially for an adult outsider.

By the time we had entered the second level of the hold Lyka stood confidently beside me, hand grasping loosely on my coat. I watched her from the corner of my eye, seeing her look at everything slack jawed and wide eyed.

Until we passed the augur and his Mentor spirit mage-hand lifting rubble off of the ground, probably to clear the space to make a winter garden, Lyka shrieks from beside me and jumped a solid three feet in the air, only to scramble up my arms like a frightened dog. She pointed a shaky finger at the mage and uttered the same word over and over again " _what--WhAt--wHAT---WHAT?!!_ "

It's a familiar word but I didnt need to know what it meant to understand that she was shocked to see magic. Fear of mages and magic in general is a common thing to see but for such a reaction would mean something truly horrible must have happened to her, or at least something along that manner.

Or at least that what I thought before she leaped out of my arms and ran towards the mage. she was a fleet footed one that's for sure, By the time I had caught up she was gesturing wildly with her hands and 'speaking' to the spirit that accompanied the Augur. The Augur stood a little ways away as the small girl practically blurred with excitement. Well, at least it was better than fear.

She was still speaking in her lyrical gibberish that the spirit seemed to fully understand and even from here, I can practically see her shining delight of finally having someone to talk to. Deciding not to intervene on the private conversation, I approached the baffled Augur.

"It's not everyday you see the Gods speak in their natural tongue with a lowlander." Said the Augur

"It's not everyday you can find a lost child in the woods who could spoke in tongues." I rebuked, the Augurs eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. I held back a chuckle at the look on his normally stoic face. 

"I don't know what you are planning Sky-watcher but whatever it is, keep me out of it." He grumbled away, stalking towards his hut in the distance. A glance at Lyka and the spirit showed they're winding down on their conversation. But it did remind me of one thing I hadn't thought of solving yet. In time I suppose, we were close to running late. 

"Come little one, we are running late and the thane waits for no one." I say as I walked on. I looked back and saw the hesitance in Lyka. I smiled gently at her "We can meet with your friend again soon after, don't worry." The spirit says something to her, I assume relaying what I had just said, and Lyka quickly returns to my side waving goodbye to the spirit.

Funny how innocence can look past all the troubles that normally plague the fearful. Then again, Lyka has already proven herself different in an innate level. More to ponder on perhaps...

We quickly passed through the second tier and headed straight for the Thanes Hall. A building craved right out of the mountain side, only its front façade jutted out of the stone like a building emerging from the rocks. Two stone statues stood guarding the grand entrance. On the left was a Dragon, wings open and presenting, sitting with its head tall looking down with ivory eyes upon all those who entered with a sneer. On the right was a drake mid-roar, its great size balancing the serpentine form of its partner. The stone was dark and speckled with veins of white. The two grand Spirits of Wyrmhold. 

_Faflungyen_ \- The blind who sees deceivers, who flies with justice and hunts in patience. patron of mothers, hunters and augurs and any who pursue progress and history. 

and _Gundrdak_ \- The berserker who fights with mercy, who walks with endurance and guides in strength. Patron of Fathers, warriors and farmers and any who hope to protect themselves or others.

The sight of them was comforting, the Sky mother and Mountain father watch over all Avaars but each Hold has its Hold beast, and Wyrmhold has been without for many years. There had been none to inherit the blessings, none who were chosen. Even now, I could almost feel the great spirits searching for one who could endure the burden of bearing both of them.

 

But I was not here for that.

 

Confidently, I entered the Hall with Lyka in tow. And just ahead, sat the Thane of Wyrmhold upon his seat as he held council among his advisers.

"Greetings Thane Utohlak." I called with a fond smile. 

"Ah, Sky-Watcher." He smiled  "You are early my friend, I will just be a moment." I nodded warmly and led Lyka off to the side where a hearth roared and sat ourselves among the floor. I lowered the packs that we had been bringing along and warmed ourselves by the fire.

 

Naught but a few moments later sound of chair legs scraping on the stone floor echoed and signaled the end of the meeting. Lyka, who had dozed off against the stuffed packs, jolted awake. I chuckled softly and slowly stood up cursing as bones popped.

"Getting old there Sky-watcher, If your not careful your hips might give out." The thane Jests.

"My hips bare no trouble Utohlak, It is but an old and annoying injury." I waved the concern away.

"Oh of course, Old and injured is the great Sky watcher," He winked "Well I heard you wanted to take in an outsider. I would assume it is this small one here?" He glanced at Lyka who had stepped back and given them both a critical eye. "Sharp eyes, that one. Where ever did you say you found her?" asked the Thane

"I stumbled on her half staving and half dead in the snow. She had just appeared from nowhere. Her clothing were strange and she spoke in a tongue I have never heard of before. But these past few days, I was able to a least learn her name and communicate in pictographs. She is smart and stubborn, and eager to learn."

the Thane stood in thought and glanced only at me after a quiet moment. "So I am to assume you wish to take her in and teach her our ways?" he asked.

"You are correct. I do not wish to replace what I had lost, dear as they are to me, but I still am in need of an apprentice an-" I paused. Lyka who had grown tired of the conversation, stood a ways and paced quietly. on the very tips of her toes. she paced a few steps, paused and bent one leg and started to turn like a slow top.

She halted as she came about and saw us staring. Our faces in a grimace. " _Uhh..._ "

"You take in the oddest strays, Sky-watcher." Said the thane.

"You're one to talk, you were one of them" I deadpanned. Utohlak only grinned and reached out a had that I had then grasped. "And I am ever thankful, so far be it for me to deny another," The thane smiled fondly at me, I was making a face- I am sure of it.

"Walk with Strength, Sky-watcher" he chuckled

"And soar in Justice, my Thane." I bid farewell and grabbed out things, leading my new daughter ( _Daughter!_ ) back into the second level and headed east to where my old hut stood.


	4. Chapter IV: WHAT WINTER BRINGS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter before the end of prologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORGIVE ME READERS FOR I HAVE SINNED. this is my first confession ... 
> 
> one, I went to japan so i had to compound what it was like there. Two then college started again and my dumb ass has to petition for the MOST IMPORTANT MAJOR LIKE WTF ME. then three, its been a long hard journey to fit everything and still have enough for the final piece of prologue. so here. have this monster of a chapter. I LOVE you. pls remember to eat and be good.

 

# Chapter 4: What Winter Brings

 _[italic]_ \- for earth speak, which means it's said in English or her native language (Filipino and Japanese dialect) (only pertains to dialogue)

 

**LYKA**

 

::ONE MONTH ::

The first few days with Amund and the village was spent with me memorizing the whole complex. It was amazing to see the thought that got put into the design of the village. They did not have indoor plumbing but the privies and outhouses were kept near immaculately clean. Everyone even bathed daily which - I'll be honest, I did not expect from ye olden viking people. It was surprising in a good way.

A week or so in I had somehow gotten a job of sorts in the village, at first it had just been running errands or climbing up roofs for one reason or another. But Amund got home one day and handed me a bag of wool. After a few minutes of charades I realized people where asking where he had gotten his scarf and suddenly I had a business. Amund brought in the materials and we would sit sometimes by the fire crocheting and knitting. Sometimes I got too into it and made rugs and hats and all those dumb mom-crafts. The lady who had asked for one was absolutely ecstatic when her scarf-hoodie had flowers and puff balls.

Then some visitors came and saw all the other things I had made.

The demand was almost never ending at that point. But haggling and pricing and _communicating_ was so hard when you _Can't_.

'Til Amund once again saved the day. The ghost I had talked to on the first day came through the wall one morning and told me it would teach me how to communicate.

**This was after we screamed like a baby.**

No I didn't !

**Nah- yeah you did, Amund peaked through the window to see whats wrong. He's laughing outside.**

shush you...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

_::Same day but hours later::_

" _We'll try it one more time, it's_ 'hemlock heats heather's horrible hut' _."_

"H-hemloch he-heaths heether's hureebol hoot ?" I stutter. The spirit tilts her head at me.

_"Better but you are slurring your words again, little lamb. It's not on your mouth but -"_

" _[-In my throat,]_ " I continue, having heard it enough times.

" _[Yes yes I know! but it hurts to keep at it!]_ " I pause to sip some water " _[why can't I just talk like this and call it an accent? everyone has those... right?]_ " She takes a moment before she shrugs,

" _Yes, I suppose but even with that excuse you still cannot be understood easily._ " I groan up at the ceiling.

" _[uuhhg! fiine, whats the next tongue twister you got?]_ "

 

she smiles and hands over a sheaf of linen with scribbles on it. " _speaking is done for today, lets move on to reading and writing!_ "

 

 

_why does she look so happy? it's the wrong kind of happy, that's never a good sign..._

**Well, think of it this way, the sooner you can learn this the faster you can write your stories and get some money. Everyone is always willing to pay for smut !**

 

 

I look through the sheaf and realize the similarities it has to Alibata or Baybayin. A main core of syllabic symbols that have a variant for a different vowel. like, 'Ka' being the default and variants of it's vowels in- _Oh Sweet spirits of the sacred bond, what in the ?!_

 

 

  * _Ka_ \- variants : _kea, kee, kiy, ki, koo, ku ,ko, kyo ,kon, koe_ and on it went with nearly ten variants of each vowel.




 

 

**...well, shit.**

_... well, shit_

 

 

" _Well then, lets get to reading!_ " cheers the spirit.

 

 

::TWO MONTHS ::

 

This started when I went outside to deliver the next batch of Mom-crafts when some asshole with a bow crowded me and started talking too fast for me to really get anything past "well well well-". I dont remember much of it, other than a very shiny knife being waved around and the dull throbbing of my bruised arm. Amund found me later that day huddling under the table in the middle of a small panic attack. It happened plenty of times the first few days we met that he was no stranger on how to handle me during which. It was after I calmed down that I stuttered out "S-s-some _[asshole]_ took my [ _stuff_ ] and break-ed it. Had- Had bow and- ... bow and s-scar" I shakily gestured over my right cheek.

Amund growled out a name I didn't bother listening to. "Te-teach me?" I hiccuped. He looked confused until I pointed to his weapons rack by the door. "teach me...?"

He nods.

 

 

 

 

"Alright Little one" Grumbles Amund, "Lower your (-----) and remember to keep (-----)" and he charged, I knew this was more of me learning to be defensive but seeing a virtual Goliath charge at you makes the monkey in your brain take control and suddenly its flight over hold-still-and-roll-with-it. I definitely did not squawk but I side stepped away hugging the tall pike in my hands like a teddy bear. "Fight back Lyka." tsked Amund.

"Sorry..." I said sheepishly

"It is alright, perhaps we wont do that yet. Look here and (----) me." He took stance, something very similar to the horse stance only one foot was slightly back than the other. He looked at me with intent and I... I copied how he held up his spear deliberately, and on and on it went until we tried again.

At the end of the day I had managed to trip him up twice and fell over the rest of the ten times.

 

 

::THREE MONTHS ::

 

 

I was making my rounds all over the whole ''hold'' ,as is was called even though it was definitely a moderately sized village. After the first months of being unable to understand anybody, I became well acquainted with the word Lycheling. I think it means something like little luck or something but the nuances in their tongue was worse that English. Something that aggravatingly slows down my learning speed. It's like learning Swedish when you've just stepped out of a Spanish class and lessons are getting smashed together in a weird linguistic goo.

I had just passed the tunnels when I found the house that was described in the note Amund left me. I mean it took me five tries to actually understand it but I got there. I could see the tanning skins under the house's awning. And there was a huntress wearing think fur pants that seemed to be held together with rope and sheer determination ,and literally nothing else, with her back turned to me skinning _something_. But that's not what mattered. Something about what she was wearing, body paint and questionable pants, seemed very familiar.

"uhh, he-o Astrid?" I asked.

The woman stopped and looked over"Lyka! good morning," She stood up and washed her hands in the clean snow. "What can I do for you? or wait, are you already done with my things?!" she said as she walked over. She stood a whole foot taller than my five foot -three frame. Her hair was dark and sporting a dreaded undercut and tied back with the tough leather and bound like a wide rope. Sweet mercy that Hair must be a demon to wash.

I had to crane my head up to look her in the eye. (not like its not the norm with me talking to these fuckin giants.)"Yup,here you's things! it all is 50 copper and one silver."

"Oh, Alright. I have the coin inside, one moment."And she walked into her house only to step out a minute later with a small leather pouch. " do you have anything new today?"

"Oh! uhh... I finished table c'oth last night so that; there is _[table runners]_ \--" Astrid's face blanks, "uhh like a scarf but for table, you lay it on top and it keeps wood from burning when you put hot pot on." she slow nods. Well I guess table runners weren't a thing, oops? "But there is curtains too! lace strip and... same things yesterday !" I put my over stuffed pack down and show her the things I just mentioned. The curtains were the shorter kind usually for over the sink windows, the lace strip was just a sewn together flower coaster design with a border and tassels on one side. I think the table runner was pretty though, It was made up of small triangles that form squares and the color pattern was checkered of grey and white. Tacky but its not like they cared.

She hummed looking through them but handed everything back. "These are well made, but I'll just get my Warrior's Scarf." She said, handing over the money and happily took the Hufflepuff themed scarf hoody from me. And look at that, she's snuggling it. Aww, I might barf rainbows. "This smells nice, how did you get it to do that?" she asked after having it over her face.

"Oh, the wool was in same bag as apples, I almost forgot about it until Amund took apples and now smell never goes away. " I explained

"It smells delightful Lychleing! here, a tip for you're blessed hands." and she forks over another _whole silver_ ,

**Bond Blessed what the shit?! I like her, she's my favorite customer. We should make more scented shit. Rake in that sweet Dough**

"Alright! it a pleasure doing business with you." I cheered, almost skipping away.

 _I will agree with you on this one, I think making more scented stuff is great, it'll give us a reason to get more fruit too! something to add to the taste palette recently, I'm getting tired of salty and saltier_.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

"What is that your focusing on Little one?" Amund asks me while I was snuggled in a corner of the bed I now call my own. It was one of those bunk beds when the lower bunk was a double and top was a twin sized. Well, I say double and twin but it was made for six footers and more so it was already spacious. Amund's bunk was sparse and before he had the bunk made, we slept side by side on the double. He basically just laid on an Amund sized dent in the hay stuffed mattress ( _ugh I miss memory foam_ ) and like a dwarf star to a rogue planet I would end up sliding into his side via gravity. It was fine though, I would be a Lyka-cicle in the mornings if not for him or the mound of blankets he buries me in.

"I am trying to make Faflun'en _[plushie]_. It be just a try though." I reply.

" _[plushie]_?" he asks though it sound more like 'plooshy?'. I laugh a little.

"uhhh, small anim'l, soft and ...dead?? oh, uh... little one's sleep with it!" He'll understand that, I'm sure.

I glanced towards him, and freeze at the look on his face. I try to say the words back to myself without context. Oh... Oh _no._

"NO !! NOT LICK- LIKE THAT!!" he only raises a single unbelieving eyebrow. "UGH!! WAIT WHEN FINISH !! SHOO!!"

"Alriiight." and he cautiously walks away to make dinner.

I roll rover, ignoring him and focusing on my work. Bond-Damned I need more vocabulary. I'll make a list for ghost. They'll get English words and I'll get to practice writing, win-win. Well more like win-inconvenienced but at this point that's more like a state of being. I wonder if Ghost will appreciate two more earth languages. We've already traded English, but that's just on account that I write in English. Half the time I'm sure its only because they have me tell them stories and they'll 'learn the words so I can change them to common.'

Or something like that.

I'm also pretty sure that they enjoy making me do voices.

 

I end up finishing the Plushie. It looks something like a stuffed Pokemon, not that they'll know that, but all in all an Ok first attempt. The limbs were lopsided and the wings were not proportional and the tail seemed too long but I got the coloration down pat and the big goo-goo eyes I gave it made it three times more cuter. Amund was absolutely enamored with it and showed it off to everyone who came over for orders or pick-ups

The moms and kids loved it. And, funny enough, so did the Augur...hmm.

 

 

::FOUR MONTHS LATER::

It was a wonderfully crisp morning, not a speck of snow drifting to settle, finally after a rough few days. Amund, who stood off to the side, was enjoying a nice cup of warm mead spiced with herbs and winter pepper. The wooden cup was steaming in the naked hands of the great warrior and healer.

Though that had nothing to do with the manic smile on his face. I'm pretty sure its solely because of his hair brained idea, to which I was suffering. Because on the five meter-ish yard space of the cabin stood a number of poles in eccentric circles

 

"A-Amund, I do not think this is a good idea. I might just rip something..." I whimpered , wobbling on the frankly too tall pole only marginally burried in the snow. The weapon I was using to balance was a pole arm with a bladed end, very similar to a naginata except the blade was not curved and the pole arm was double ended. It was a better make and lighter than the one we had been practicing with for months.

"It is perfectly safe little one, the snow is thick enough to catch you, should you fall, but I have perfect faith that you can handle the cahllenege. Unless you can't, then we can just stop for today. Come along."

**Is it really so scary? C'mon we look like the Avatar!!**

_I could fall!_

**At this height and that snow bank** **? its a bruise at best. A bruise and cold at worse.**

_ARGH FINE!!_

"No wait," I took a fortifying breath and shifted my stance. "I can do it. Just... catch me?"

 

Amund puts down the cup " Always." he smiles comfortingly. "now, do your forms and use the pillars as a foothold."

"alrig- WAIT EVEN THE KNEELING ONES?!"

And that morning I only had bruises. It was also a lot more fun than I imagined. I think a few kids saw me weeb out a little and pull a few well know poses from kung fu panda and what not. At least I got a few awed looks from it before I ruined it by stumbling. At least after lunch it was just story time with Ghost for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

* * *

 

" _Little laaaamb you cant just end the story like that! what happened to the avengers after the Slovakia accords?what about the man of Iron? did He finally confess to the Soldier??? tell meeee_ " Ghost pouted, kicking her legs in the air. " _OH No what if they couldn't get over their differences and never end up adopting the spider-child!? NOooo_ " They swooned off the bunk and down onto Amund's bed beneath. They rolled around lamenting the perceived sinking of their ship.

"You don't even know if their soulmates. Soldier doesn't have a mark anymore after they were experimented on, remember." I said after peaking over my bed down to the Stony Convert I had end up creating in this planet where Marvel isn't even a thing.

" _BUT THEY ARE!! You said his mark used to be Soldier's shield! and Iron's Mark is a sketch! Soldier is an artist !!! it's them, I sure of it!_ " they rant, and I end up snorting.

"I honestly don't know Ghost. I can't... I didn't stay long enough to find out." I shrugged, thinking back on everything I've left behind on earth.

At my tone, Ghost goes quiet. I could feel her looking at me. "You never really told anyone where you were from..." Ghost said gently, as though afraid to hurt my imaginary feelings about earth. "Do you miss it? your home, I mean." they ask gently.

 

"No." I said, almost convincingly but, "... Yes? maybe. I miss it like you miss a lover that hurts you... I am glad that I am not with there anymore, but I miss what could have been." I remember the beach, the very same one I dream of every night. I miss the food, Okonomiyaki, Ramen and Okaa-san's Karagedon. But most of all I miss the sky. This planet is odd with its two moons and no galaxy to view, just a blanket of stars. But maybe... maybe It'll be easier if...

 

**Don't do it. They wont believe you.**

_Shut up. I won't know unless I try._

**Fine, but don't expect me not to hound you when I end up being right.**

 

 

"C'mon I'll show you where it is." I resolved. They'll Understand. I'm sure, they're the closest to a friend I have here. And I'm in sore need of people to talk to. And stories just isn't cutting it anymore.

"Is it far? We cannot leave now, it's dusk. The stars are out already." Ghost says.

"It is not like we can actually go there, Ghost, I'll just point the way." And I dragged, err led?, her outside where the dark of the sky just started to show the twinkle of the distant stars. I pointed to them.

"Somewhere out there is a [ _whirlpool_ ] of stars and [ _nebula's_ ] and every [ _manner of planets_ ]. On one of the arms of this [ _whirlpool_ ], near its tip, is a star called Sol. and Sol has nine [ _planets_ ]. On the third planet from Sol is a little blue and green sphere called [ _Earth_ ]. That's where I'm from." _and I can never go back, nor would I want to._ "And [ _Earth_ ] has one moon called [ _Selene_ ]..." and I continued to tell them the basic concept of earth, making sure to leave anything about the culture and people out of it. No one needs to know about the important stuff. That's for social link seven to ten! and they just got to level three. When I eventually go quiet after describing how the [Todoroki waterfalls](https://discovertokushima.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/13-8-7-490x325.jpg) looked when I had gone on a trip I saved up for one summer.

Ghost is quiet for a long moment. I'm sure they're only thinking of a way to let me down slowly, maybe tell me I'm tired and I probably need sleep and my head was definitely hit harder than everyone thought. But that's ok, I can just go along with it and maybe retract my sentiment of friendship, its not like I haven't lost friends before. I can just try again with other people. If they run screaming, calling me crazy then that's fine, good riddance. But if they stay... _Bond_ , if they stay I just might cry.

"You came from the sky and you can't go home? Like The Thunderer?" They ask quietly. I look back at them, they looked guarded, face blank with a mask of indifference but there was a slight quiver in their eyes, I did not know what that meant.

"Yes... but not because I was bad. I was like Loki, cast out because I was different." I amended. That sounded like a better comparison. The innocent Villain who's only fault was being different. Yup, I'm definitely infected with the case of Loki, an Alien who didn't have soulmarks, so the Author (see : Universe) sees it only right to torment them endlessly.

"And they hurt you... because you don't have soulmarks?" She asked. And I barely stopped the full body flinch, instead I just nodded slowly. They were an outsider, without any idea how the world worked. They didn't need to know how bad things have gone nor how worse they could have been.

"You could say that..." I amended, looking back up to the stars, waiting for them to just poof away like they usually do. But they didn't leave, not when one minute passed, or three, or ten. I look up higher and the stars blurred from unshed tears. The relief of it had me near euphoric.

"Thank you for telling me ma'falon," They whispered as they gently laid their palm on my shoulder. My head only tilted towards them, something they said sounded familiar.

_Ma'falon ? I know that word, why do i know that word?_

"Wyrmhold, and Thedas, will always welcome you." and the moment they said that, I can almost assure you, my brain record scratched like a shitty DJ remix.

 

**hold up- wait what?**

 

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"I said Wyrmhold welcomes you." She repeated.

"No the other one." I said, waving my hand like there was a fly in my face. Because the thought might as well be a fly right. Because surely not, I'd be stupid and ridiculous. Right? I, for sure, heard wrong. Definitely not what I think they said. I haven't thought of that game since, _Bond's_ since a few weeks before I ended up here! The trailer for the fourth game only just came out. The internet broke when they released the video but announced its release to be a few years later, like what the fuck man! There was no redemption for that game, not for me at least. It broke me, broke me so bad I wrote so many angst-y poems about it. Broke me so bad I wrote Patreon exclusive smutty fanfiction because if I broke then others broke too, and never let it be said I don't capitalize on my pain. So surely not, _DEFINITELY_ _not_.

 

_Right?_

 

"Thedas? it is the name of this world. Our- er, I suppose it would be my world."Ghost said placatingly. Like there was absolutely nothing wrong with that sentence, nothing at all.

 

**Welp, look on the bright side ! You... uhh, I... I got nothing.**

_Really?! what happened to your boundless snark and enthusiasm ??_

**Aye Dee Kay man, this shits gone full retard. Can't help you with that.**

 

"Right.. so uhh, what year is it?" They gave me a look that said a lot about how stupid that must have sounded. "It's just it never occurred to me to ask, y'know?" Maybe I'll be lucky and it's no way near the actual era of the games. Maybe I'm in the Divine age or way before that. Or that this world only coincidentally have the same name as the one in the game, its possible! The sky looks fine so surely it'll be nothing.

"9:38, thirteenth day of Firstfall," Ghost replied.

Nope, that's too Thedas-y to not _be_ Thedas, its the kind of shit you read in those codex thingies. I tucked the date into the back of my mind. My knees felt weak and hooh boy, are my palms sweaty? my palms are sweaty. Oh jeez.

"I... I think I need to sit down." I stumbled inside and turned to Ghost before I went through the door. "Thank you for everything Ghost. I... thank you- for eb- for everything." and I closed the door on them, shakily climbed up to bed and hid under the blankets until my brain started to make sense again.

Amund found me not a few hours after, muttering to myself while starting another order of scarf hoodies.

 

_I'm in thedas._

**Yes.**

_And I live with Amun- Holy shit he's the skywatcher guy from the fellow mire- place- thingy._

**Yes. The "white-guy-with-the-Egyptian-name" I remember.**

_Holy shit. Avians are buying my fandom shit._

**Pretty sure that's not what they're called. They definitely aren't Birds.**

_Oh shit, I'm MGiT !!! But I thought plot devices only happened to Soulmarked white people! It's practically a literary rule._

**You should probably stop antagonizing the universe, you might hurt its feelings and then we've'd Ophelia'd ourselves.**

_Dont you Hamlet me. Let me break down in peace._

**Don't have time for that, you need to figure out what you are going to do with this information. You are an Alien in a dimension where you sort of know the future. And you are an author, so do the Author thing.**

_The author thing ?_

**Yeah like, rationally think of how this story may go using the information you have at your disposal. Like writing fanfiction. So- Y'know- Do the Author Thing.**

_Right, Right. Do the Author thing._

 

So, I'm in Thedas. And Inquisition happens at 9:42, which would be five years from now. A lot can happen in five years. But the Main plot is everywhere but here, because when the fuck did the Inquisitor go to somewhere called Wyrmhold? I don't think that ever happened. So maybe this is like those side stories that happen outside the frame of the movie, like the simultaneous war of the dwarves against Melkor's forces while Aragorn and the fellowship fought in Mordor. So the point would be to Not be too Main Character.

Ok, I can do that. Don't be a main character. Ignore all Plot Flags- Easy.

 

::TWO MONTHS AFTER::

 

 

It was a windy day in what constitutes as march in Thedas. The mountain range was probably positioned near the ocean for the wind to carry a bit of coastline salt in the air. It was a comforting smell in the cold morning while I shuffled through my sets on top of the pillars.The soft, powder fresh snow crunched loudly along the main paths of Wyrmhold, a metronome to pace to while I trained.

Nearly a year in since learning to fight, I've only trained with Amund, who after deeming me not that fragile anymore, refused to go easy on me at all. No one fights half heartedly for things that matter, he'd said, No point teaching you if I can't trust you to use your weapon when you need to.

After that, me and the ground have gotten to know each other intimately. It fancies snow and hard rock, and giving my bruises more bruises. But not today. I've been hyped up for today since forever. My little beach has its own more fickle pillars and the full training room of kung fu panda inside a cliff side cave. So mentally speaking, Ive been swimming 250 meters, then training for 3 hours, then swimming back another 250 meters every night. I feel like Ghost knows exactly whats going on but I'm still sure my dreams are inside my head. Like 60% sure of it. It could explain why my body shows signs of muscle growth and soreness every morning but, lets be real here. Its like 6 hours of hardcore dream training then wake up then another 5 hours training-training. For months.

If it's true then I'd be bald and OP or , y'know, dead.

The train of thought doesn't distract me enough to not notice the near silent approach of Amund. So as he "surprise" attacked me, I had already shifted forms to completely avoid the maul and leapt clear to the outer ring, legs near perfect split, resting on two adjacent pillars. "A little heavy footed this morning," I smirked at his expression "better lay off the strudels Papa" I teased. He lifted his maul from the floor and I braced.

''You've improved much, " Amund said instead with a loud voice, eyes shining "you might be able to surpass me soon."

I kicked off the pillars to initiate our spar but the fresh snow made the wood wet and slippery, over extending my bend and sending me toppling with a yelp and a soft "oof" as I fell down to two feet of soft, powdery snow in a lyka shaped hole.

"But not to soon I suppose" Amund laughed.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

::SIX MONTHS::

 

" There is many a tale," I said in my best Esmerelda impression. " Of a long forgotten people who lived on Islands as small as a single mountain, with the great sea all around. These people would travel for days between islands on boats as big as a whole village. To these people, the Sea was a great entity both benevolent and fickle."

"Is there a dragon in this story?" Interrupted one of the hunters.

Ghost glares at them from my side and I continue. " And This Sea, in all its great reefs and murky depths, fell in love with a giant turtle. Of which where ever she roamed, the current always followed, and where ever she beached, the island would sink briefly into the waves."

"Thats terrible !!" claims one worried apprentice.

"On the contrary, they welcomed her with open arms. For some, their houses stood on tall stilts anchored deep into the bed rock and have stood for so long a reef grew around them and helped keep the houses from blowing away during storms. And for others, their houses were not anchored at all! instead, as the tide rolls in, the houses would float atop the water and often they would follow the current til they landed in another bountiful island."

All the eyes of the younger impressionable sort got misty in the imagery. some could not fathom the thought. Ghost kept eagerly listening.

On and on that night I kept telling them story after story of old myths and legends from both my national homes. It was sort of nostalgic in a sense. I could almost see my Lolo sitting under the kotatsu in the brisk cold of winter morning, telling me stories of my heritage, showing off his tribal tattoos around his feet. "One day, Li-ling, You will do something great, and I will take you to Cebu and get you one of these. Don't tell your Lola though, she will-"

"Dont tell me what?" Obaasan asked, walking through the door way and seeing his and my position, his legs splayed and my hands tracing the never ending waves and a bracket of scales that wrap around his calf.

"Oh no you don't!!!" Lolo winced at her scolding but shot me a cheeky wink.

Near the end of my watch, when most of the party had fallen asleep, I whisper quietly with Ghost about more stories of the Philippine Isle's. About the Male Moon who fell in love with the death mountain god, about the turtle's brother who eats whole islands and flies high to chase the moons.

I told her about my Lolo and his tribal marks, what it means in my culture and everything else that I never thought I would miss from home. But I suppose Earth will always be my first home, that counts for something.

 

:: A few days later::

We had finally gotten enough from our hunting that it was time to go back to the village. Only we never headed back, or at least directionally speaking we never turned around and back tracked. Instead the head hunter, Mavik, led us further in, nearer to the next mountain in the range when he revealed a crack in the cliff with a deep decline. not long after the cavern started to look uniformed. That's when I realized that this was one of the paths hidden in the forest.

I asked them why they bother using these paths when it might be found and used against the village. They only laughed at me "Lychling, if anyone else tries, I pity their souls. these caves have killed more than the blight. " one of them said. "It would have probably worked many ages ago but it's only become more intricate since. Every new hunting ground we find, we carve out more."

I filed away the information, it was intriguing. Surely someone had made a map of the whole complex. It would be stupid not to keep track. Worth a shot asking around anyways.

 

**What the ever-loving fuck are you gonna do with a map of the place ? running away or some shit?**

_Nah, just sounded like something I wouldn't regret knowing, y'know_

**Goddess, its like you with the internet again. One minute cat videos, next thing you know your hip deep in historical forging.**

 

I ignored the thought. It's not like I was the only one guilty of this. Youtube just had that little column of videos and sometimes you cant stop clicking the interesting ones. It's also been useful before, I wouldn't have learned how to crochet without it! It never hurt to learn more in my opinion.

 

When we finally re-immerged inside the first tier of Wyrmhold, a runner told me I was needed in the Thane's Hall. Urgently. I waved goodbye to the young apprentices, "We'll catch you later Lychling! you're fourteen nights of stories isn't up yet !"

"You'll have to find me first." I cheered as I ran off. It lit a warmth in me to have something as stupid as an inside joke with the group- a sense of belonging that echoed louder in person than it did on screen back on earth.

Anyway, I ran up to the Thane's hall and quietly made my way inside. I saw him seated at the throne entertaining a few people I haven't seen around before. At the sound of my approached he nodded to me and I took that as a sign to just scoot other somewhere and wait 'til he was done. I quietly made my way closer to the fireplace off to the side and pulled out my crochet that I was working on while I was away.

"And who is this? I haven't had the honor of being introduced." someone said loudly.

there was a pause, then someone clearing their throat. Still, I continued on my project. "Is she daft?" he said quieter.

Oh! he was talking to me. I looked up from my work without quite stopping the flicks of my wrist. "Oh, sorry I thought you were talking to someone else." I glanced down to see where I was at before continuing "My name is Lyka An _nun'yabusiness_ O Wyrmhold. Hi." _now go away._

"noonyebossinis ? I suppose you must have odd family traditions." he sneers. Ugh, just hearing him speak makes my skin crawl.

"It has been a pleasure to talk with you and your son, Movran, You may stay to rest a while. But I have another meeting a must attend to." I hear the Thane say, glancing to see him urging me with his eyes. I stand up abruptly, the creep - who on a closer look is fucking huge and wow can look more of an asshole? Sweet Louise- starts towards me before I rush of towards the thane.

"You called for me, My thane?" He nods to me at my approach.

_Please, please don't make me entertain the asshole, I'd rather French kiss a goat!_

"Come Sister, we have much to talk of since your return." he places a sure hand on my shoulder and leads me towards a shadowed corner that hides a well placed door.

 _Sister?!_ _whoa, must be something serious. He's never called me 'sister' before_.

Once we passed the threshold and was surely out of earshot he released his grip. "Apologies Lyka, I know I had said urgently but I was accosted by those two just as the runner left. We have much to discuss but first, tell me how your hunt went. I have already heard many odd things." I tried to fight the blush creeping up my face.

" _Ku-an..._ We went farther than I expected, but I managed to down a druffao! And I saw a giant nug, made me wonder if they tasted like rabbit, but Joor said to leave it alone so we did. _Eto..._ I lost a bet with Maoris so I gotta tell story-time at the tave- I mean feast hall for the next ten days I think."

"You lost a bet with Maoris? Maviks son? What did you bet on?" The thane asked with a slight smile.

"We competed on who could last longer with just their smalls. I lost cuz he shoved the tree and the snow fell on me. It was fair though, we never said we couldn't do whatever to win. We had a good laugh over it." I shrugged. The smart ass lorded over it for days, but all in good fun I suppose.

"Good, I am glad that you are being welcomed kindly into our midst. I had heard about that incident last winter, I never thought you'd get that old shaman to start swinging his maul again. Thank you for that." I blinked at his sincere tone. "I had feared Amund would fall into grief after what happened. That man has a keen eye for people who are destined for more. I, myself, am a good example."

I snorted softly. "My thane, always so humble."

"Well, the small talk has been pleasant but it is not why I called you. While you were gone, Our Hold-beasts called me in a dream. I was told that they wished to speak with you."

"You mean the dragons outside? I thought they were long gone... unless they're living in the actual fade! Are they living in the actual fade?!!"

The man laughed "No no, nothing that elaborate." he paused and he looked lost for a moment "Lyka, have you ever wondered why our clan lives here? I know you have been wondering why there are relics of a far better society than ours all around us."

I nodded. Of course I was.

"Truth be told, Wyrm hold is not like other Avaar tribes. While they wander, we have planted our roots and survived centuries of winters. Our tribe comes from a distant people beyond the seas who have lived and thrived with dragons. Both as friends and has enemies. Legends tell that the best of us warred with dragons as equals. But these has been lost to time."

_holy-_

**SHIT!!! eat my dust George Martin !**

"Though we are not completely lost. What little remains is a way for us to commune directly to the last of our protectors." He gestured to the wall, which now that I focus on, was completely covered with pictographs of what must be Wyrmhold in its glory days.

A grand city on a mountain hive for the dragons. A great metropolis of nordic similarities. And on the very top of the wall, almost beyond the light of the torches, a [white and red Mountain Drake](https://66.media.tumblr.com/508c2ef6bb53d86aabffbf2a522d8276/tumblr_pnmtrdsNOD1spvevto1_640.jpg) roaring and on his right, A blue and black Storm dragon soaring.

"The dragons..."

"Yes." And he touched something on the mural that depressed with a clicking sound. The wall swung open into a dark chamber that lit suddenly from the thane lighting an indent in the wall. It was very Egyptian-esque, reminds me of that one scene in the mummy.

The chamber was round with twin statues in the center. The mountain drake statue stood imposing, protective of the sleeping statue of the serpentine storm dragon that laid to rest by his feet.

"I suggest meditating but sleeping can work to I suppose. I have faith that their voice can reach you. Anyway, I have duties to attend to, so excuse me."

"Wait, what? You're leaving me here??" I turned but he was already gone. Ugh stupid mysterious leaders of ancient forgotten societies and their stupid mysterious ways.

I walked forward and sat in front of the statues criss-cross-apple-sauce and tried to Commune with the dragons, what ever the fuck that meant.

 

 

* * *

 

It felt like I had just closed my eyes when I felt the heat of the summer sun on my skin and the gentle lapping of the waves. When I opened my eyes and saw the beach where my dreams always takes me to.

"How sweet the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shore, no matter how much it is sent away. " A rumbling old voice said behind me.

I turned and was met with scale and snout and red saber teeth as long as my whole body. I paled.

"You have an intuitive mind and a curious spirit, little fortunate one." the giant mouth said. "Yet your heart yearns to lyric words to a soul who could hear it." The snout pulled away and my eyes followed 'til it met the full visage of Gundrdak himself.

 

**Holy shit.**

_Not. Helping._

**Nope. Panicking. YEET.**

 

" _I.. uhh, you- I mean..._ " I stuttered.

"I mean no harm, little one. I only wish to speak with you." he laid back down on the soft sand, I swear I could almost hear the creaking of old bones and a quiet groan that was more like an airy huff.

"My mate and I have been watching you since your arrival to our little bastion." he walked with heavy foot falls towards the shore. My feet moving to follow even as my brain still tried to wrap itself around the whole idea of _a fucking dragon in my head what the fuck._

"While your inventions and your stories push our people to try, it is the strength in you that I have laid claim on." he rumbled, laying to rest just beyond the lapping waves.

"What claim?"

"You could have met my wife instead of I, in this home for you spirit, instead I was able to win this particular argument."there was a very distinctly smug tone in his rumbling voice. "You have done much to survive, but it would be a loss if I were to ignore your ardent wish to stay."

I was only a few paces back but when he turned to look at me I was paralyzed from the gaze. A deep and piercing look that held no quarry in seeing into me. I could shudder if I wasn't frozen.

"Tell me, _ko-okami,_ _dare no tame ni tatakau nodesu ka_?"

A wave came crashing out of nowhere, engulfing both me and the giant dragon. The current pulled like a vacuum, dragging me deeper and washing me about like bad laundry til I didn't know which way was up. Water flooded my being and invaded my lungs and _I can't breathe why can't I breathe-_

And suddenly I was back home. Not one with stone floors, piles of wool and smoke in the air. No, the floors where terra cotta, the walls a rush patch job of stucco and plaster and the lower wall a flower pattern of ventanillias. The room was achingly familiar, pastel yellow walls, a small bed and a fine net canopy over it.

 

 _"Ana na lang jud ta ani ron? Dili mag atubangay ug mag sturyahanay?! Nganu man na dili naka ma minaw nako!"_ Mama yelled from beyond the hardwood door. Their shadows dancing in the sliver of light that shines from underneath.

 _"PAGHILOM DIRA! wala kay ayo na mu tubag nako na murag wala ko nag trabaho ug ahat para maka kaon ta ug maka bayad sa kuryente!"_ Papa rebutted with a growl.

 

Oh, I vaguely remember this moment. But the argument was always a background noise to me. Now it was stark clear and ringing in my ears. It's hard to forget this night, even though I was half asleep and didn't always catch every word.

 

" _... dili ko ka agwanta na manglagot nimo. Anata, siguro masmaayo na didto sa na si Lyka sa inyong mama. dili na arangan na makadungog ang bata na magaway ta..._ "

" _.....S-sige, dadun nako siya inig sunod nato larga._ "

 

Then the room changed, tatami floors and a bigger, messier bed. My desk and computer by the window, the wall above my bed covered in paper notes for stories long finished. My bedside table stacked tall with dirty plates and bowls. My wardrobe partly open with the mirror inside reflecting 12 year old me. I knew from the bruises on my arms and the hastily wrapped bandage over my shoulder. A once in a lifetime experience. Only it wasn't, these things- apart from the stabbing, happened each time I go out alone. But I can't exactly stay inside for the rest of my life. And no amount of bottle smashing can stop me.

 

 _"Neko-chan, soto ni denaide kudasai "_ Obaasan pleaded after the third time this happened, but this time it wasn't just ointments for my bruises. The retired nurse zipping my skin together with as much contempt possible without making it worse.

 _"Sou desu. Anata wa anzende wa arimasen."_ My grandfather piped up from the bathroom, looking for the biotic spray.

Both of them kept preaching to me how safer I would be to stay inside. How much the world would break me down if they find out about me. Speaking to me like a clone, a half-life charity project even though they know that I'm not. I blew up, expectedly.

 _"Shikashi, watashi wa watashinojinsei no nokori no tame ni tojikome raretaku wa arimasen! Onegai....Naze watashi wa jiyū ni narenai no ka?"_ they go quiet, glancing at each other from over my shoulder. My grandfather giving a pitying look as though he did wish I was free.

" _Demo_ , _kikensugiru_... " he finally said after a moment.

" _Anata ga watashidattara, hoka ni nani o shimasu ka?_ " I hissed back, both from anger and the sharp pain from the cut.

 

A sound of waves, darkness. And I was somewhere else now. A shinto temple, people in dark suites and veils. A pair of urn's on a pedestal, set inside a shrine. The priestess was droning out mantra's but all I can focus on is an envelope with all my legal documents, a passport and Immigration papers and the deed to a flat in Manchester, England. There was a letter I've read through a thousand times over.

_Neko-chan,_

_Your grandmother and I have set this aside for you in case of any emergencies._ _The apartment was just a side business of a relative that has given it to us old folks_ _to pay for pension, not that we needed it. Please live a happy and long life, find love_ _and live free._

 _Love,_ _Obaasan and Lolo._

 

A falling feeling, far off but ever looming, a blink. I was in my flat. Only the computer casting a light on the whole space. My bedroom a mess of laundry, and hobbies put away as soon as I pick them up, only to start over again. A forgotten easel, a rusty guitar, a DIY poi pair, and stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books and paper and mail.

The screen has Patreon up, the official site for artists and start ups. I had the next chapter uploading and the number of supporters pinging one by one.

And like a phantom, the screen goes to sleep, and I'm on the window ledge. 14 stories high, toying with the thought of flying.

 

**Who DO we fight for?**

_Ourselves?_

**Quit shitting.**

 

The lights of the city meld like a painting into the starry night of Wyrmhold. I'm not on the window anymore. Instead I'm outside, on a boulder, spear in hand. There are demons ravaging the village, Amund in the distance seconds close to being overwhelmed. Bodies of people I knew lay dead and disgraced on the pathways, pristine snow turned red.

A scream crawled up my throat, gut wrenching and true, heavy with all the emotion that flooded forth. It was trapped between my teeth, burning and angry.

 

_What do you fight for?_

 

I dash forward to help Amund, striking a despair demon in its spindly waist. I twisted and gave a jumping strike on a specter. I have to reach him. I have to help him.

** _LITTLE LAMB! MALA HALANI!!_ **

"Ghost!!" I scanned the distance and saw her bound and shifting, her verdant glow going purple. "NO !!" but she was too far, and I was too slow.

 

_Who do you fight for?_

 

My skin crawled, my fingers ached, my heart pounded so hard it hurt to breathe. my scream wrenched free. "LEAVE THEM **ALONE** !!!!" and like a lightning strike, the earth cratered at my feet, a concussive blast knocking down everything in a ten foot radius. A wordless scream grew louder 'til it was a roar.

 

I felt different, full. Like I've eaten too many pizza slices and can't quite get to my feet. I look down and see scale and claw and fangs. "You fight, because you cannot lose. Cannot be alone anymore." Gundrdak speaks from within me. "Now awaken as more," the village fades away, and I'm back on the beach. Gundrdak gone from his spot and in his place, a [glaive](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5905c4a131a1c202e853fc6ab7ffd44b/tumblr_pnmtrdsNOD1spvevto2_1280.jpg).

_"Awaken as Dragon kin."_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS :
> 
> Japanese :
> 
> eto... - uhhh/umm
> 
> ko-okami, dare no tame ni tatakau nodesu ka? - little wolf, who do you fight for?
> 
> "Neko-chan, soto ni denaide kudasai "- Kitty, please stop going outside.
> 
> "Sou desu. Anata wa anzende wa arimasen."- thats right, it's not safe for you (?)
> 
> "Shikashi, watashi wa watashinojinsei no nokori no tame ni tojikome raretaku wa arimasen! Onegai....Naze watashi wa jiyū ni narenai no ka?- But I can't just stay here for the rest of my life! please... why can't I just be free?
> 
> Demo, kikensugiru... - it's too dangerous...
> 
> Anata ga watashidattara, hoka ni nani o shimasu ka? - what else would you do if you were me?
> 
>  
> 
> Cebuano:
> 
> Ku-an- uhh/ umm/ "that thing" (in some context, if used like a noun)
> 
> "Ana na lang jud ta ani ron? Dili mag atubangay ug mag sturyahanay?! Nganu man na dili naka ma minaw nako!" - Is that how it is? not looking at each other and talking?! why wont you listen to me!
> 
> "PAGHILOM DIRA! wala kay ayo na mu tubag nako na murag wala ko nag trabaho ug ahat para maka kaon ta ug maka bayad sa kuryente!" - SHUT UP! you have no right to speak to me like that when I'm the one working my ass of so we can eat and pay the bills.
> 
> "... dili ko ka agwanta na manglagot nimo.Anata, siguro masmaayo na didto sa na si Lyka sa inyong mama. dili na arangan na makadungog ang bata na magaway ta..." - I can't handle being angry at you. Dear, maybe its better if Lyka stays with your mom. It's not good for a child to hear their parent's fight.
> 
> ".....S-sige, dadun nako siya inig sunod nato larga." - A-Alright (/ok), I'll bring her with me next time we leave.

**Author's Note:**

> this story will have songs so if y'all want, you can send song prompts to my tumblr. 
> 
> http://zailyn26.tumblr.com/
> 
> please send some and they might end up making me keep to schedule. Its happened before too :P 
> 
> LOVE YOU. STAY HEALTHY. HAVE U HAD WATER LATELY? take care of yourself- I care about you guys :)


End file.
